


Work Hazards

by Dangerously_Demonic



Series: The Guide to Murder [5]
Category: Jurassic Park - All Media Types, Jurassic World Trilogy (Movies)
Genre: 0 days since last raptor incident, Don't turn your back on raptors, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-31
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2019-04-16 08:12:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14160516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dangerously_Demonic/pseuds/Dangerously_Demonic
Summary: Let's be honest. Jurassic World is just one giant OSHA violation. Especially when moody raptors named Alpha get involved.





	Work Hazards

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place between chapters 7 & 8 of "Alpha vs Alpha".

The grating sound of the shelter gate closing stirred him out of his nap. Time for the weekly cleaning, no doubt. He had quickly learned the routine, and it had initially allowed him to judge how much time had passed...But he had lost count after he passed a month of time. The staff called him 'Alpha', and while it wasn't the name he was born with, he still answered to it. Mostly. He only vaguely recalled the name he had before the island, before the plane crash. It really didn't matter in the scheme of things. That person had died a handful of days after the crash, anyway. He was entirely someone else, now. After a moment, he pushed himself up to his feet and shook off the excess mud from the wallow he had made for himself. Since he was stuck in a small pen, the walls blocked a lot of the wind, especially under the trees near the walls. So, he had needed to get creative with a method to keep himself cool in the summer heat. Slowly, he trudged to the shelter and eyeballed the worker whose back was to him.

He had been working on a mental catalog of the regular staff members, just so he could weed out the staff who happened to annoy him. The guards tended to be rotated weekly, so it wasn't worth trying to remember them. He hated all of them by proxy, anyway. The cleaning staff weren't really of any concern, in most cases. The large majority of them just tended to want to get in and get out. Then there were the two constants: Owen, the self proclaimed raptor trainer. He always smelt of motor grease and other raptors. Though, the raptor scents he could pick up weren't the ones he was used to. They were...Different, somehow. He wasn't entirely sure how. The other was Kaitlyn, the doctor in charge of the whole deal. She always smelt clean and vaguely of soap. He...Liked Kaitlyn. She seemed to be more concerned about him than the others, and she spoke _to_ him. He liked that, too.

A muttered curse from the shelter broke him out of his thoughts and he focused on the worker who was scrubbing the waterer. He pressed his muzzle into the bars and scented the air, then he snorted loudly when he caught a strong smell of cologne or something similar that irritated his nostrils. That was very unpleasant. The man turned slightly to face him; brunette, blue eyes, slightly crooked nose, eyebrow piercing. The details of his face was quickly committed to memory. The workers tended to ignore him, save for wary glances, when he watched them.

This one, however, grabbed the bucket used to carry the cleaning supplies and threw it at the bars. He jerked his head back, narrowly missing getting his muzzle hit, but the sound of the plastic bucket hitting the bars still rang loudly in his ears. Annoyed, he made a sharp warning bark at the man.

"Oh, piss off." The worker grabbed a rake and violently jabbed the handle through the bars in an attempt to ward him off.

He took a few steps back, out of reach of the rake handle, and hissed loudly. No, he didn't like this one and wouldn't stand to be disrespected in such a manner. However, revenge wouldn't work for now. The man would expect retaliation, and besides. The shelter was mostly cleaned and getting blood everywhere would just result in further cleaning. So, he stared at the man's face for a long moment to make sure he would fully remember each detail. Then, he turned away to plot. He wouldn't kill him, just maim.

Well, that was the thought that remained in his head up until the shelter was opened back up. He had access to two waterers: one outside which tended to run on the warm side, and the one in the shelter which was a lot colder. With it being summer, he tended to gravitate towards the waterer in the shelter. So, once the gate opened, he bee lined it to the shelter and thirstily got a mouthful of water. He quickly spat it out and gagged at the soapy taste. A brief glance was sent at the empty hallway to his left before he splashed the water and unhappily watched a couple of soap bubbles form. Maiming had just been upgraded to killing. He could deal with the thing with the rake, but fucking up his water? That was an absolute no go. With a low growl, he worked on finishing rinsing out the waterer. Since the tub would automatically fill when it dropped below a certain amount, this made it easy to rinse, but it also meant that water got everywhere. Which then resulted in extra work for him since he then had to kick the wet bedding out of the shelter. All and all, it put him in a fairly foul mood. However, as bad as his mood might be, he was also very, very patient. He was a hunter, after all, and part of hunting was patience. So he waited for the right time. And waited. And waited.

It took two weeks for the opportunity to present itself. The man, Jacob he had learned, was talking to Owen about something in the hallway and had his back to the metal bars. Lazily, he meandered into the shelter, snuffling around as he usually did to ensure everything was in place. His attention was on Jacob, though. He was right in striking range. Lightly, he curled his upper lip before he slammed himself against the bars, ignoring the sudden stinging from the impact. Jacob never had a chance to escape the claws that suddenly sunk into his back. This delighted him to no end as he started trying to drag the screaming man towards the bars. Owen grabbed his arms to try and pull Jacob away, and the action loosened the bite that his claws had. However, one of them found a new home and snagged onto a bone, prompting the screaming to get even worse. The smell of the obnoxious cologne was buried under the mingled scents of fear and blood. It brought a brief joy in this otherwise miserable and hellish experience.

His joy was short lived when his face was on the receiving end of a cold blast of water from the hose. The sudden shock of it caused his grip to release long enough for Owen to start dragging a still screaming Jacob away. With an angry snarl, he reached out to try and grab his prey again, but only succeeded in leaving a long claw-mark on the bloody cement floor. He moved away from the bars and watched Jacob get drug down the hallway, leaving a trail of blood. While he hadn't managed to kill him, he seriously doubted that the man would be back anytime soon. He huffed to himself and stalked back out into the main part of the pen. The guards on the catwalks above him seemed a great deal more tense. The action would likely come back to bite him in the ass, but he felt more than justified.

He ended up avoiding the shelter for the next few days. Not only had it stunk of industrial strength cleaner, but also of paint. Neither of which were kind to his keen sense of smell. When the shelter had finally aired out, he returned and felt...Amused at what he saw. The claw marks he had made were still quite visible on the floor, but a red line had been painted at the very edge of his reach. Then the words 'Alpha Danger Zone' had been added inside the area between the gate and the painted line. On the wall was a sign which read '4 days since last Alpha incident'. While it all was likely intended as a macabre joke, they had just given him a very nice way to keep track of time, especially if they updated the days. With a content noise, he laid down in the nest of shavings and watched the rain.


End file.
